Broken ( Re-Write )
by thkq1997
Summary: A broken man, inside an empty shell of TK 2224 [ One - Shot ] [ Cody ] [ Rewrite version ]


** Broken**

**A/N: So basically this is a rewrite version of ''Broken'', the last one was a little rush, and off cannon, no, I don't think all my stories need a re- write, it's need a beta reader, and I don't have one, so please, I'm sorry for the inconveniences.**

A good soldier follows orders.

Ask yourself, what if you don't have a choice, and something in you follow the orders for you, what do you think?.

He didn't pull the trigger, his chip implanted in him did, that was not his voice ordering them to shoot Kenobi on sight behind the general's back, that was not him who followed the order the chancellor gave.

They said he was a good soldier.

A good soldier who loyal to the Republic until the end of his time, but all of his ideals of democracy learned through the flash training became useless, because simply there was no democracy anymore.

He and his brother sworn to protect the chancellor's ideas, and they fought this costly war for him, laid countless of their lives for him, it was just a dream, a horrible dream of death and horror, but waking up, finding he was deceived, finding they are nothing but white pawns on chess board, they are expendable, yes, they are replaceable, yes.

But what cause did they fight for the last 3 years of their short lives?

3 years of suffering, 3 years of only war he was trained to fight, wars all he knew, but backstabbing a Jedi, it was not the thing the Kaminoans taught him to, it was just a program, a chip, an order.

An order that slaughter hundreds, and turn all of his causes, all of his reasons for fighting, into nothing but lies.

Lies about a better tomorrow, lies about lasting peace, and lies about a life without carrying a blaster to everywhere he goes.

All he knew was lies.

He was a good soldier, a good soldier for the greater cause of the Empire, a poster boy, a broken man.

The things about alcohol, it's not good for you, but people just keep pouring it into their bodies like it was water, but it do have one useful purpose beside getting you drunk.

It was a way to forget, to forget the bitter reality he was living in, but the effect never lasted, he wake up and reality hits him hard on his head.

You are sad, you drank alcohol, when you somber, you get sadder.

Suddenly he found illusions addicted, get away for a short time before the world drag him back to where he belongs, a bitter reality with nothing but sorrow, with nothing but memories to remember, to hang on to his sanity.

Memories to keep the past near, illusions to hold it closer, but nothing could help him pull it back into an embrace.

Suddenly he found himself waking up in the middle of the night, unconsciously reaching for his helmet, his old phase I they left him to keep, it was nothing special, but it seen more happier things than his new ones.

But it was something to remember Cody by, a commander who devoted his life for this war, something to remember them all by, his company, his brothers, his general.

The helmet was his grave, now he was only known only by a string of numbers, a tool for domination, TK -2224.

He follow orders like a soldier supposed to be, keep suppressing civilians he suppose to protect, keep running errands for Emperor and call it justice.

''Did you…'' TK-7567 asked with sorrowful tone.

He could answer that easily, so easy that it was always in his mind, in his sleep, he pulled the trigger, and regret it every day, but now what's the point of regretting for?, everything was done, it was in the past, the Republic was lost, the Empire rises from its ashes.

But the answer didn't find his lips, he just stiffen, and let his eyes wander off.

7567 was lucky, he didn't have to make that choice, a choice that made so many of other clones regret, haunt them every night in their sleep and torturing them by pieces of flashbacks in the daylight.

But 3 years was a brutal time, and time is was the galaxy needed to get back to its feet and during those 3 years, death happens, people switching sides, and sometime, sometime realization about this war hit them hard.

He saw her eyes through the yellow barrier that separate them, she didn't look at him, but his eyes was on her, she looks pathetic, like a coward, only to hit and then run.

But she was the one he love, she was the reason made this war bearable, she was a promise of a life outside, a normal life after the war, but now, all of those promises, all of those comfort words fading with the screaming wind.

He hits the wall hard, and let his fist rested there, while keeping his eyes on her, this was not the healer he knew, then who is the woman sitting inside there with diamonds bridged her face?

A war can make a person goes from bad to worse, why her?, why not someone else?, but her?, million whys, but only one answer.

She saw his cause as corrupted, and she was right, all along, and now sitting here letting her haunted his mind with his whisky, a life that he never have with the young green Jedi he loved.

He never said goodbye, he just left her sitting there, left her to be alone, but now it was always too late to regret.

She was executed the next day after that and he just move on, to some forceforsaken planet and fight the kniffing never ending war.

He didn't know until he was back, he was planning to visit her again, to ask more million whys, but there is no answer this time, because she was far away from him, she moved on from this reality, leaving the clone behind.

No more whispering of comfort in the midst of night in the middle of the battlefield, no more healing, no more her love for him, no more her to hold in his arms.

It was always too late, for him to regret, pulling the trigger he never wanted to pull, unanswered questions from the one who got away before 66 happened, even before 37 happened, and left for his sorrows and his shadow on the wall to mock him.

He can't say sorry, because nothing but his echo will replied, he can't go back, because it was impossible, all he have was a bottle of whisky and the rest of his days left in his misery.

His eyes were up there, in the cloudless sky, where passing snow flying in the wind, and his medic were screaming his name, his numbers, his real identity.

A bolt to the chest, he would make a heck of a joke about this with Gearshift, or Boxer or Rex.

Rex was M.I.A, Gearshift was gone, and Boxer is dead on some force forsaken planet the empire sends them, and the rest of his brothers, were nowhere to be found after order 66, and now a strange medic tending to him, but now, it was too late, a too late that 2224 was waiting for.

His vision gone black, then and hard white shine on his gaze

Surround him was laughter, then cheer, of his own voice, he walks toward the emitting light while a smile found its way to his lips.

Every step he came closer to his destination, and she was standing there, holding a hand out for him.

He takes her hand in his, it was warm like he remembered, and pulls her into him, pull a past into an embrace.

He moved on.


End file.
